Absentminded Acceptance
by Aussie-Angel-Of-Music
Summary: Two people meet and find acceptance from each other...neither realising that there was anything wrong with the other person to start with. A/U Erik/Christine
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys hope you like this story. If you don't please let me know why and not in a I-am-going-to-bash-you-up-coz-your-story-sucks way. Lol**

**Disclaimer: I'm going to get so rich coz of this story...wait...pardon?...Bugger. That was my lawyer informing me that between Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber I don't make any any profit. Rats. Oh well. Hats off to those two brilliant people who came up with the idea! And now my story:**

Erik Durrante rubbed his eyes wearily as he stood up from his seat. Eight hours ago he had departed from France and despite flying first class, hadn't managed to get a wink of sleep. It was because of the music. Music permeated every aspect of Erik's life. It surrounded him. Anything he did or felt was accompanied by a melody that seemed to present itself from somewhere in the depths of his mind. While this was somewhat unusual, it was very helpful in his line of work. Erik was and had been a composer for the French Opera Company since he was twenty years old. The two men who currently owned the company, Firmin and Andre, were happy to let Erik run the rehearsals in his own unusual way. Why would they mind? Erik's operas were incredibly successful and brought in a huge amount of money. Not bad for a thirty year old. Those within the company had grown accustomed to Erik's strange ways. Erik did not run the rehearsals but had chosen an older lady, Madame Giry, to carry out his instructions during rehearsals. Madame Giry had originally overseen the ballet dancers of the company, but her arthritis prevented her from fully participating in the instruction of the dancers. She had handed the reins over to her daughter Meg Giry, and accomplished ballet dancer in her own right. Madame Giry would stay on the ground during rehearsals while Erik floated above in the rafters, occasionally allowing his voice to carry down to the stage below if he wasn't satisfied. Erik had temporarily left all of that behind in France; he was now disembarking from the plane in Cleveland, Ohio. As he walked into the arrivals lounge, a security officer approached him.

'Mr. Durrante?' he asked.

'That's me,' Erik replied.

'Sir, if you could please come with me to the security centre, we would appreciate it.' Erik frowned. The man was addressing him in a polite manner, but his vice contained a verbal sneer and his smile was more of a smirk.

'Of course,' Erik said. 'May I ask what this is about?'

'As soon as we get to the office, Mr. Durrante.' The man began arrogantly walking away, not bothering to check that Erik was following him. The man walked to the other side of the room and entered a pin code, leading Erik into what appeared to be the main security centre at the airport and then into a smaller room that resembled the type of police interrogation rooms that you saw on crime shows on the TV. The man gestured at one of the chairs.

'If you would please take a seat, _sir_, Christine will be here in just a moment to deal with this.' He left with one last smirk, closing the door behind him. Erik frowned. He did not like being referred to something that needed to be dealt with. He was more confused than ever. _What is going on and who on earth is Christine? _About thirty seconds later, the door opened again. In walked a beautiful woman with dark long flowing hair, green eyes, porcelain skin, and a sparkling smile. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. Erik automatically rose from his seat as the woman walked in.

'Monsieur Durrante, it's lovely to meet you. My name is Christine and I'm a security officer at this airport.'

'Pleasure to meet you, Miss Christine. What can I do for you?' he replied. His deep baritone voice sent shivers down Christine's spine.

'I must apologise ahead of time about what I have to ask you to do. As you know, security at all airports has been increased since the event of September 11, and this means we have to be very careful about who is coming into this country. As a result of this, I'm afraid I have to ask you to remove your mask in order to confirm your identity.' Erik froze. His white half mask was the only thing that shielded him from the mockery of the cruel world. Christine continued.

'I am really sorry, sir, but this is a direct order so I can't disobey it.'

Erik was still trying to comprehend the situation. They wanted him to remove his mask and expose himself? And on top of that they had to send in a gorgeous woman who would probably faint at the sight of him. Looking up he saw that Christine's eyes were full of sympathy. He sighed. It wasn't her fault. She had sounded upset, even angry that her superiors were forcing her to do this. _Of course she'd be upset. She doesn't want to look at my horrible face, _he thought bitterly.

'Very well,' he said. Erik planned to take his mask of, allow her a glimpse of his face, and then put the mask back on again as quickly as possible. He removed his mask with his eyes closed, unwilling to watch the woman's expression change from one of sympathy to revulsion. Erik waited for the disgusted gasp. When he heard nothing, he opened his eyes to see Christine leaning closer to him in order to get a better look. Erik was so shocked that he forgot to rush to put his mask back on. Christine didn't look revolted or as if she was going to throw up; the only expression on her face was one of curiosity.

'Acid burns,' she muttered. Erik gaped, even more shocked. How the hell did she know that?

'Excuse me?' he said. Christine blushed.

'I'm sorry. I just said they were acid burns. I shouldn't have commented.'

'No, don't worry about that. I mean how do you know? Do you have a file on me?' Erik demanded.

'No, sir. I work two jobs and one of them is at the Daae Home which is retirement home as well as what I guess you would call a community of disabled...but not exactly. It's a place where those who could live and survive in the real world but chose not to because of a condition or deformity. There are currently five burns victims in the Home; two with third degree burns, two with electrical burns, and one with acid burns. That's how I recognised the type of burns you have. I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have said anything,' Christine said with a downcast expression. _So that's why she didn't react_.

'It's quite alright. If that's all you need, then I should be going,' he said.

'Of course. Thank you for your time and cooperation.' Erik stood and put his mask back on. Christine escorted him out of the security centre. Erik collected his baggage and left the airport more rattled and exhausted than when he arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I spoke to my lawyer again and he says no, POTO is not up for sale. So once again all credit goes to Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber, both awesome people in my eyes!

Okay, second chapter up. Please let me know what you think of it. I'm not sure when I'm going to update next because between now and next week I have three assignments and five exams. For all you Americans out there, if you hadn't realised, the Australian and American school years start and finish at different times. I have two weeks and one day left and then its holiday time!!!! Yay! Wish me luck on my exams. This chapter has a few extra author notes. I'm hoping that it won't interrupt the flow of the story. Without further ado, here's chapter two:

Christine closed the door behind Monsieur Durrante and returned to her office. She loathed this part of her job, that is, the strip searches and other sensitive cases such as this one. Not because it disgusted her but because it was often very degrading and even humiliating for the person that had to undergo the examination. Christine remembered when she had first started working, when some of her colleagues volunteered to do the sensitive cases just to gawk at the person and then talk about what was wrong or ugly about the person after they had left. When Christine had first found this out, she was both disgusted and infuriated. She made an appointment with the Director of Security and told him what had happened. Christine then shared her background with him (_A/N: We'll get to that later_), and had asked him if he would allow her to handle any sensitive cases in the future. He had agreed, most relieved to let her take charge. The Director had heard rumours of what was happening but there was no one special who could do anything about it. He was very impressed with the way Christine handled the first person that came her way. It had been a lady in her late forties who was recovering from a surgery and had bandages on her face. Christine had handled the lady very carefully, not reacting like any of her colleagues did. When she had escorted the lady out, Christine had returned to her office, she had found four other security guards laughing about the woman from what they had seen and were waiting for Christine to join in and describe the lady's face.

_Christine walked around to her desk and sat down silently. She looked up, her eyes fiery with rage, causing the men before her to recoil. _

'_If you ever do this again, I promise I will make you regret it,' she said, in a soft but steely voice. Christine walked over to her door and held it open. The men wasted no time in filing out._

It took a week and a half for those men to be able to look her in the face; by that time they had all heard of Christine's other job.

Christine worked at and owned the Daae Home. Founded by her late father Christophe Daae, the Daae Home was for the most part a retirement home but there were also two separate sections. One of these was a temporary residence ward, where those recovering from surgery were able to leave the hospital but weren't quite able to look after themselves. The ward was a more comfortable and less expensive option than remaining in the hospitable.

The third section was the one she had told Erik about. People with visible conditions or disabilities that they could live with but preferred to avoid the discrimination they experienced in the 'real world' moved into this section, which was called the community section. Some people in the ward were burns victims, others were disfigured, and there was one lady who had a birthmark that covered most of her face as well as a cleft palate and lip, which made it difficult to eat and even breathe.

Anybody who wanted to work in the Daae home had to be qualified, pass an initial test with Christine, and undergo a strict period of probation. She was not going to allow her patients to suffer or her father's reputation be sullied because of incompetent employees.

Christine's father Christophe Daae was an accomplished musician who had established the Daae Home before she was born. He was the only family Christine had ever truly known, as her mother died when she was four years old. Christophe had died three years ago and Christine missed him every single day. He had given her his love of and taste in music as well as a strong faith. Christine's father and Christine both liked listening to classical music. She also enjoyed some of the 80's song although she avoided listening to pop music, although she did enjoy one or two songs that she had caught from the radio while at work.

Christine was snapped out of her reverie as her office door opened. It was Raoul. He was the man who had brought Erik to the security centre. Raoul was a tall man with long blonde hair he wore swept up in a pony tail and a very muscular body. _Too muscular, _Christine thought. Raoul looked like one of the Greek gods. On the outside, however, Christine didn't like him very much.

Raoul and Christine had attended the same high school. When she had first started working at the airport, Raoul had assumed that they would be great friends because of this. He had been one of the four men who had been waiting for Christine in her office. Christine's anger hadn't deterred him; in the last few months he had begun badgering her to go out on a date with him. Christine politely refused each time but his persistence was beginning to annoy her. Christine tried to keep a neutral expression on her face.

'What can I do for you?' she asked. He strode over to her desk, pulled out the other chair and leaning back into it, put his feet on her desk, a habit she detested-and something she had asked him not to do many, _many _times.

'So what was wrong with that guy? I still can't believe that freaks like that don't bug you out.' Christine's fists clenched.

'There was nothing wrong with him,' she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. 'If you don't mind, I have some paperwork to complete and then I'm signing out.'

'You know, you should really just become a full time staff member. You spend far too much time at your old person's home as it is.' Thankfully Raoul left as he said this. Christine couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't have hit him if he was still there. Christine finished her paperwork as quickly as she could, picked up her handbag and left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Okay, finished messing around with disclaimers. I know POTO doesn't belong to me and fired my lawyer's ass for not being able to rectify the situation. All credit for POTO goes to Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber.**

**Note: I messed up slightly in Ch. 1. No biggie, just figured out that I left a small thing out that I have decided to reference to in this chapter. It is a very small change and you will probably remember the section I am writing about when Christine is telling Erik about her second job:**

'_No sir. I work two jobs and one of them is at a place __called the Daae Home__ which is both a retirement home...' _

**Brief info you might want to know concerning this chapter: **

**100 metres (according to an online convertor) is about 328 feet.**

**I have never been to a Holiday Inn, let alone Cleveland so it probably is a good inn.**

**Anyway, I'm back! And currently sicker than a dog! Only went to school yesterday coz I had two speeches (one worth 40% which I aced! : )) and a test and I stayed for two classes this morning and am now in bed. I think blowing your nose to the point that you give yourself nosebleeds is probably an indicator of ill health. Enough about me. Here's chapter 3:**

Erik caught a taxi to his hotel. He managed to check in without incurring too many strange looks. After unpacking, he sat on the bed and stared at the phone for a few minutes

_C'mon Erik, it's just a phone call. Just pick up the phone and dial the number. _He reached for the phone. Picking it up, the operator on the other end greeted him.

'How can I help you Mr. Durrante?'

'How do I, uh, make a phone call here?' Erik babbled. _Stupid Erik, _said the voice in his head. _You just need to push the buttons. _

'What type of call sir? International, local-'

'Local,' Erik interrupted.

'Land line or mobile, sir?'

'Mobile,' Erik said, not sure if he welcomed putting the call off because of these questions or if they were beginning to annoy him.

'Not a problem. Dial the number once I leave the phone. You will hear a dial tone in just a few seconds.'

'Thank you,' Erik said to the dial tone. He pulled the phone away from his ear and punched in the number he had scrawled on a piece of paper in front of him. Erik held his breath as the phone began to ring.There was a click as the person on the other end picked up.

'Hello?' a cheerful female voice said.

'Hello, this is...' Erik cleared his throat and continued. 'This is Erik.' He heard a sharp intake of breath.

'Erik? Erik...my son? Is that really you?' she asked, the tremble in her voice clearly coming through. He chuckled nervously.

'If this is Madelaine Richards, then yes, I am your son.' She laughed.

'It is so good to hear your voice. How are you? What have you been up to?' Madelaine asked.

'I'm still composing for the French Opera Company. We've become quite well known over the years. I decided to take a holiday and I'm currently staying at the Holiday Inn in Cleveland. I came to see you,' Erik revealed at last.

'You're in Ohio? Here? That is wonderful. The Inn is ten minutes from where I live. Can you come today?' she asked excitedly.

'Of course, Mother. My hire car should arrive in about ten minutes. How do I get to you?' he asked.

'Drive north on the road the inn is on, take the second right and the Home is about 100 metres **)** away on the left side of the road. Come as soon as you can,' Madelaine said. Erik was slightly confused with her directions.

'The Home?' he echoed. Erik didn't remember exactly where his mother lived. It had been more than just a few years.

'Of course. The Daae Home. That's where I live now. I'll see you soon Erik.' Erik sat frozen. The Daae Home? His mother was staying at that place where that Miss Christine person worked? Christine had said that there was somebody staying there that had acid burns-perhaps it was Madelaine she was talking about?

Erik was surprised to find that he was slightly intrigued at the possibility of seeing Christine again. He shook his head and walked down to the Inn's car park to see if his hire car had arrived, using the stairs rather than the elevator in order to avoid the other guests. Erik wasn't incredibly impressed with what he had seen of the hotel so far. The rooms were adequate but the information folder that most hotels issued to their guests was absolutely useless, only promoting unattractive tourist sites and the services that the hotel would provide-at outrageous costs, of course. As he had walked in, he could see staff lounging around all over the place, causing him to question whether they had ever actually been trained before. Erik could see many things that they should have been doing- one of the guests walking in was an old lady and she was not offered any assistance with her bags. Erik's car arrived followed by a second car to return the driver of his car. After one of the company men had given a spiel about what he wasn't and was allowed to do with the car (Erik was embarrassed when it was strongly suggested that certain activities should not be conducted in the back seat) and the fines that would occur if he chose to do so anyway, Erik finally got into the car and drove away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the phantom of the opera. They belong to Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber.**

**I'm so tired from exams but I don't have any tomorrow so I'm very much looking forward to sleeping in. Here's Chapter 4:**

Christine climbed out of her car, walking to the main reception of the Home. The Daae Home was fifteen minutes from the airport. Christine wasn't actually qualified as a doctor or nurse. Instead she was a friendly face to every occupant of the Home. Christine made rounds of the Home, ensuring that she spoke to every person at least once a day. The nurses and doctors knew that she was to be informed of any changes with the residents which meant she always knew when to congratulate someone or give someone a word of encouragement. Christine managed several social and therapeutic aspects of the Home, some personally, others from a distance. Someone had once called her the soul of the Home. There weren't many who disagreed with this. Christine walked through the sliding doors and smiled at the receptionist.

'Hey Casey. How's it going?' she asked.

'It's been a pretty easy day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Oh! I forgot about Madelaine,' Casey said. _Oh no. _Christine thought. Madelaine was a close friend of hers. Casey's next words relieved her.

'Apparently her son is coming to visit. If she gets any more excited, we'll have to sedate her,' Casey joked.

'Oh, that's wonderful! I didn't even know she had a son; other than her lawyer she hasn't had a visitor in years,' Christine mused. 'I think I'll make her my first stop so that I don't interrupt when he arrives. Thanks Casey.' Christine began walking towards the large double doors that led to the remainder of the Home.

'No problem. See you later.' Casey turned back to the files she had been organising.

Christine walked down the large corridor which was wide enough to fit a hospital bed should one be required. That said, it obviously catered for wheelchairs and was lined with handrails for the slightly more active residents.

Christine passed two turnoffs and continued down the corridor. The first turnoff led to the largest section of the home, the retired community. This was setup in a similar way to regular retirement homes, with a few slight differences. As you walked along the main corridor there were six separate turnoffs. The first of these was the women's quarters. Each woman had their own room that connected to the women's common room. These rooms had enough space for a bed, any medical equipment required, a table, two chairs, lights and television and there was one bathroom per two women. The women's common room had televisions, stereos, tables set up with card decks, chess and checker boards, comfortable chairs and couches as well as one-seaters that could be moved with ease to fireplaces in winter or near to open windows in summer, as they were now. This connected to another common room which was bigger but set up in the same way, for both men and women. On the other side of this was the men's common room and on the other side of that were their sleeping quarters. The sixth turnoff led to four rooms designed for married couples. Two of them were currently occupied.

The second section was a temporary resident for those who had been in the hospital and were recovering from surgery, illness, that sort of thing. Each of these rooms were an improvement on the quality of hospital rooms; they were more spacious and comfortable, not to mention less expensive. One of the temporary residents had remarked to Christine before they left:

'The food here tastes a whole lot better than the glop I had to eat at the hospital.'

After passing these sections, Christine once again came to a set of large double doors. These doors led out to a wide path. From here you could see several small building on either side of the path that looked like a cross between a cottage and a cabin. These were the Community Units. Each of these had a bedroom, a kitchen, a lounge/dining room containing a table and a set of chairs as well as a TV, and a guest bedroom.

Passing the first unit, Christine walked to the second one and knocked on the door. The door opened to show Madelaine dressed up slightly more than usual. Madelaine was nearly fifty years old and had been a resident at the Daae Home for around fifteen years.

'Christine! Did you hear? My son is coming to visit me!' Madelaine said excitedly. Christine laughed.

'Yes, I heard. I take it you haven't seen him in a while?' Christine asked.

'No, I haven't. It's been almost fifteen years. He ran away after...after.' Madelaine paused and a shadow flickered over her face. 'Well it was shortly after this happened.' Madelaine gestured at herself. 'This' was several acid burns that covered the back of her head, her neck and portions of her back and right arm. Christine had respected Madelaine's privacy, never asking what had happened. When Madelaine had first arrived, she wouldn't tell the doctors anything. When one of them had suggested searching the internet, she had snapped at him and he was fired as this was not his first transgression. Christine knew that they had to find out certain information so she had sat down with Madelaine for a private chat.

_Flashback_

'_Ms. Richards, I need you to know that I will not be asking you to tell me or anyone the circumstances that caused you to be burnt. We just need enough medical details to looks after you properly. Madelaine started crying on Christine's shoulder._

'_Thank you,' she whispered. Christine called a doctor into the room and squeezed Madelaine's hand as she gave him some details._

_End of flashback_

To this day nobody at the Home knew exactly what had caused Madelaine's burns but Christine knew they had something to do with her ex-husband because of a brief conversation she had with Madelaine around a week after the doctor's visit. Christine didn't remember exactly what she had said but it involved call Madelaine Ms. Richards, as per Daae House protocol.

_Flashback_

'_Please don't call me that,' Madelaine said. Christine was puzzled._

'_Addressing residents by their title and surname is part of the rules at the Daae Home. Is something wrong with that?' she asked._

'_It's just...I'm not used to being called Ms. Richards yet and every time that I am, it makes me think of my married name...my married life.' Her face was full of anger and pain._

_Christine agreed to call her Madelaine and without causing a fuss notified the staff that they were to do the same, no questions asked._

_End flashback_

'Christine, can you help me please? I need somebody to help me with my makeup,' Madelaine said.

'Of course,' Christine said with a smile. She knew Madelaine sometimes had some difficulty using her arm because of the burns. 'What would you like me to do?'

A few minutes later Madelaine had some very light makeup on and was walking over to her mirror.

'Thank you, Christine. I want you to meet my son while he is here. I'm sure he will like you as much as I do,' Madelaine said.

'I'd love to meet him, but I think I'll let you two get reacquainted first. He will be here any minute now by the sounds of things, so I think I'll pop in and see Miss Jamison; she had a bit of a cold yesterday. Send me a message when you want me to come?' Christine said. Madelaine was one of the few residents that had Christine's personal mobile number.

'Of course, that would be perfect,' Madelaine said gratefully. 'I will see you in just a bit?'

'Sure thing,' said Christine. Christine left Madelaine's unit and walked into the neighbouring one just as Erik walked into the main reception.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: POTO belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Leroux.**

**Allo' Again. Five chapters! Yay! I'm going to keep updating as much as I can but I am still busy with work and my last exam ( thank the Lord) so we'll see how it goes. (We being me and the voices in my head :P) Chapter 5:**

Erik walked into the main reception and over to the blonde receptionist. She looked up and smiled. _Wow, two smiles in one day. That's got to be a new record, _Erik thought.

'Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?' Erik cleared his throat.

'My name is Erik Durrante. I'm here to see my mother Madelaine Richards.'

'Oh, you're Madelaine's son. She's very excited that you've come to see you. Now, if you just walk through those double doors over there and follow the corridor to the very end, you will find a second set of doors that will lead you outside and your mother is in...' Casey punched in a few buttons and consulted her computer screen. '...Unit 2.' She smiled at him.

'Thank you very much,' Erik said.

'No problem. Have a good day.'

'And the same to you,' Erik said as he walked away. Erik walked through the double doors and was met with a wide, sparkling white corridor. He could hear the faint sound of laughter from somewhere but otherwise it was very quiet. Erik was impressed with what he saw. Everything was spotless. A lady came out of one of the turnoffs dressed impeccably in a nurse's uniform. She smiled at him and continued with her duties. _The staff at my hotel could certainly learn a thing or two from the people here, _Erik thought.

Erik continued down the corridor, his heart beat increasing with every step he took. _C'mon Erik. It's just a visit to your mother not an execution march,_ he chided himself.

Erik finally reached the second set of double doors. Opening them, he was pleasantly surprised with what he could see. There was a wide concrete path with benches dotted along either side of it and units surrounded by lots of trees, green grass and flowers. It made for a pretty picture.

_Now, she said Unit 2. _Erik walked along the path and saw that the first unit on the right had the number two on it. He walked towards it slowly, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Almost immediately the door opened and Madelaine was there.

'Erik,' she said with tears in her eyes.

'Mother,' he replied. There was a slightly awkward pause and then Madelaine rushed forward and swept Erik into a hug.

'It's so good to see you,' she said as she hugged him tightly. Erik was unused to such signs of affection but he returned the hug gratefully. Madelaine released him and drew him towards the front door. She led him inside her unit which Erik was also impressed by. The unit was comfortable and airy and clean. They passed what looked like a dining room or a lounge room or perhaps both and she drew him into the kitchen.

'Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?' Madelaine asked.

'Now, mother, surely you remember that my favourite drink in the world is coffee', Erik said in a slightly sarcastic tone but with a twinkle in his eye. Erik had never been able to stand the smell of coffee.**)** His dislike for coffee increased when he was around ten and he was carrying a mug for his mother and some of it slopped over the edge onto his arm. Without realising it he began to rub that arm. Madelaine laughed.

'I'll have water, please.'

'No worries. I've been keeping an eye on you over in Europe,' Madelaine said, laughing again as she saw Erik's face. 'I must be the only person in town that has a subscription to the French Music Entertainment Magazine. It seems you haven't been a very social person lately.' Erik winced. He knew that magazine kept tabs on his work. There had recently been an article on him, not just his work, entitled _The Phantom of the Opera_, talking more about his seclusion and the lack of information that the magazine had on him. Erik had...convinced the author of the article and the editor of the magazine that it would be in their best interests to concentrate on his music and not his personal life. Madelaine walked over to the fridge, pulled out a jug of water, poured two glasses and sat back down again.

'Well, I'm not the most social person. It's easier to get on with music than it is people. Music doesn't stare at your face everywhere you go,' Erik said. It was Madelaine's turn to wince. 'Now, my turn for interrogation,' Erik said, a not very subtle attempt to change the subject but Madelaine was happy to avoid the topic that had just come up. 'There isn't exactly a magazine that keeps an eye on Madelaine Richards so you'll have to fill me in.' Madelaine laughed again. _I could happily get used to that sound, _Erik thought. _I'm so glad she's moved on. _

'Well I've had a lot of physiotherapy which has made it easier to move. I didn't really want to do all that much but a friend convinced me I needed to get out more so I now play tennis and try to get a swim in 2 or 3 times a week. This place has a great pool and tennis courts and they provide all the equipment as well. The owner was even able to contact a tennis coach who was told of my restrictions when moving and she's helped me increase my movability so much. There's all sorts of things organised here for entertainment, individual activities and ones in groups. There's also a hall that we set up as a church on Sundays which makes it easier for me because I don't have to go into town.' Erik chuckled.

'Seems like your life is all set. I also happen to recall that your birthday is coming up,' Erik said.

'You remembered! Damn. I don't need everybody finding out that I'm fifty,' complained Madelaine.

'Mother, you live in a place that is a partial retirement home. I'm sure that to most of the residents will tell you that you're still a "young'un,' Erik said, finishing his sentence with slightly southern drawl.

'Now that you mention it, I guess it's not so bad,' Madelaine said sheepishly. 'I must ask, however did you manage to tear yourself away from your opera theatre? That article mentioned you were very particular about the quality of your operas and here you are, traipsing from continent to continent.'

'I managed to find a young man whose musical work I appreciate who is leading the production currently. He's written a few operas himself which are fairly good so I'm sure he will be able to run things while I am gone,' said Erik

'Wow. He must be very good to capture your attention,' Madelaine teased. 'You always were one for perfection...or at least as close to perfection as possible.'

'What's wrong with that?' Erik protested.

'Nothing,' Madelaine said. 'I was just impressed with the young man in question for managing to pass whatever audition you gave him. That and the fact that he managed to work with you most likely breathing down his neck.' She grinned mischievously.

'Ha ha, very funny.'

It was then that Madelaine began the first stage of her plan (which had popped into her head as soon as she heard that Erik was coming to visit).


	6. Chapter 6

**No more exams!!!! Hooray! I'm free at last, I'm free at last, thank God almighty I'm free at last. Well, Martin Luther King suffered more than I did...but his words still express what I'm feeling right now. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or any of its characters. If I did Erik would be all mine and I wouldn't be writing about him. But it's not meant to be. *wipes away tear***

**Chapter 6: **

Madelaine pulled out her mobile phone.

'Erik, there is somebody I want you to meet.' Erik frowned inwardly. Hopefully it wasn't a new boyfriend. 'She's been a very good friend to me since I came to America, and I hope you will get to know each other.' Madelaine began texting Christine. Not allowing Erik to see her phone, she sent her friend Jen from tennis a message to call her back in a few minutes. Madelaine prayed that this would work. She and Erik continued to chat idly about what they had been doing since they had last seen each other. About a minute later there was a knock on the door. Madelaine got up to let Christine in. 'Come in dear, Erik arrived just after you left.'

'Can't wait to meet him,' Christine said. She followed Madelaine around the corner into the kitchen where she saw a tall man with dark hair facing away from her and intently studying a painting on the wall.

'Erik, this is the person I was telling you about. Christine, this is my son Erik.' Erik turned around. Christine's eyes widened as she took in the mask.

'Monsieur Durrante?'

'Miss Christine?'

'You know each other?' Madelaine asked confusedly. Christine answered hesitantly.

'Yes, we, uh, met at the airport this morning. I had to take him through a security check. I guess I'd better introduce myself properly. I'm Christine Daae. Please just call me Christine.' She once again held out her hand.'

'Then you must call me Erik. Did you say that your surname is Daae?' Erik asked curiously, shaking her hand. A brief look of pain crossed Christine's face, vanishing so quickly that Erik almost didn't see it.

'Yes. My late father, Christophe Daae, founded the Daae Home.'

'I'm sorry. It seems you have helped make my mother very happy here, something I must thank you for.' Christine smiled.

'It's been a pleasure. Your mother is a wonderful lady and a close friend of mine.' Just then Madelaine's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID.

'It's Jen from tennis. I'm going to go outside, there's better reception out there. With that, Madelaine left the room and walked out the front door before Christine or Erik could say anything.

She sat down on a bench near the path and answered her phone.

'Hello Jen,' she said.

'Now what's all this about? All your SMS said was to give you a ring,' said Madelaine's tennis partner Jen.

'You know how my son is visiting? I asked Christine to come over and I want them to be friends. They don't need an old lady to get in the way,' Madelaine said in a voice that was a little too innocent.

'You crafty bugger. Not that I'm against it. Christine needs someone in her life and not that blonde buffoon who's always chasing her.'

'Indeed. So how's that new grandson of yours going?'

Christine and Erik sat there for a minute and then both spoke at the same time:

'So what do you do for a living?'

'What do you do here at the Daae Home, Miss Christine?' They laughed.

'You first, Miss Christine,' Erik said.

'Not unless you call me just Christine, no miss,' Christine said.

'I insist you go first, Christine,' he said with a twinkle in his eye.

'I was asking what do you do for a living?' Christine said.

'I live in France. I compose music and write operas for the French Opera Company.' Christine's eyes opened wide in awe.

'I went to see one of the Company's operas when I was twenty and my Father and I were visiting Europe. Did you write it?' she asked excitedly. Erik laughed.

'Unless you tell me your age or the name of the opera, I'm afraid I can't answer that question,' he said with a smile. Christine blushed, embarrassed. _I wonder if she knows how beautiful she looks when she does that, _Erik mused_._

'Oops,' she said. 'I'm twenty-five. The opera was called _Il Muto_.' _So she's only five years younger than me. Hmm. _Erik inwardly slapped himself. _Get a grip, Erik. She's not looking for a date, least of all with you. She's just being nice because she's friends with Madelaine._

'Yes, I did as a matter of fact. I was the same age as you are now when I wrote it. It was one of my first operas. What did you think of it?' Erik asked, genuinely curious about her opinion.

'I thought it was a very well written opera. But...' Christine hesitated.

'Go on,' Erik prompted.

'I didn't particularly like the performance of the lead soprano,' she said, blushing again as she hoped she hadn't insulted him too badly. Erik's eyes were once again drawn to the blush in her cheeks. _I can't believe she doesn't know how pretty she looks when she does that._ Christine took his brief pause as anger and lowered her gaze slightly. His next words relieved her.

'Yes, I must agree with you. The singer was a star in Europe in her earlier days, but her voice had deteriorated as she aged. The company cast her because they thought her celebrity status would draw people in; I'm afraid at that stage I was a rookie composer and writer so I had little influence over the casting process. I was meant to feel lucky and honoured by the fact that my work had been chosen,' Erik said ruefully. 'Thankfully she left before my next opera was performed. She realised she wasn't getting any younger so she returned to Italy where she was born.'

'That's a relief,' Christine said with a smile. 'I'm glad she didn't use a microphone for most of the performance. She might have broken my eardrums.'

'Hey, you had it easy!' Erik complained. 'I was conducting and was far more exposed to her...uh, music.' Christine started laughing. She managed to stop before her sides split. _I like this guy. He's genuinely charming and funny and nice to be around. And he's only five years older than me. Wait, Chrissie. He's only being nice to you because you're Madelaine's friend. He isn't looking for a date._

'Now it's my turn. What exactly do you do here?' Erik asked.

'I'm just here to be a friend to the people here. I'm not qualified as a doctor or anything like that. Neither was my father but he always kept tabs on all the people here. I enjoy their company. I try to visit everyone here; both the residents and whichever staff are working at the time at least once a day. It doesn't always happen but at least I can try,' Christine said.

'So how does your job at the airport come into the picture?' Erik asked.

'If I wanted to, I could just live off the money from the House because I own it and I did for a while. But I began to feel guilty because I wasn't exactly doing anything. I have people to manage everything from finances to housekeeping and just living off something that I felt I didn't properly contribute to just didn't make me happy. So I went into training and then got a job at the airport. It's fairly close to home and I still get to see everyone while actually earning money. It also made me feel better when I was given charge of all the special cases, such as yourself and any strip searches that could be necessary.' It was here that Christine blushed. _That blush is really beginning to distract me, _Erik thought. 'Some of my colleagues that used to do the work I now do were very unprofessional and it made me angry so I asked the head of security if I could take over. What with growing up in a place like this, I had no qualms about doing anything and did my best to prevent any awkwardness. I don't know if I'm going to work there much longer. I have two younger colleagues that I have given training to handle other cases because I don't really get to spend enough time at the Home. I think I'm going to hand in my resignation in a few days.' Her blush, which had temporarily faded, flared up again. 'I'm sorry. I seem to have a case of verbal diarrhoea.' _Why can't I stop blushing? This is so embarrassing. _

'No, what you have to say is interesting.' _Okay her blushing is now driving me mad. Why can't she just do something horrible already so I can stop liking her so much?_ It was at this point that Madelaine came back in.

'Sorry I took so long,' she said. Erik and Christine looked at the clock and saw that fifteen minutes had passed. 'Jen started gushing about her new grandson and it was when she stopped to take a breath that I told her I had to go.'

'How is he?' Christine asked. 'He was such a lovely baby, all smiles and such big deep green eyes.'

'You always were a sucker for green eyes. I bet that was why you never went out with blue eyed Raoul,' Madelaine teased. Christine laughed.

'Believe me Madelaine, he had many other faults that prevented me and will always prevent from going out with Raoul, no matter how many times he asks.' Erik kept his face neutral. He didn't know who Raoul was but Christine wasn't seeing him and didn't plan on it. If this guy was still asking her then that meant she didn't have anybody else in her life either. _I have deep green eyes. _He once again mentally slapped himself. _We've been over this, Erik. She wouldn't go out with you unless you and Raoul were the last men on Earth. Even then she'd probably change her mind about him._ Christine stood up.

'Well, I still need to see a few people before I turn in. It was a pleasure to properly meet you, Erik. Madelaine, I will see you tomorrow.' Christine turned to leave but then turned back again. 'Where abouts are you staying?' she asked Erik. _Here it comes. The bad part. She will ask me to stay here, hoping to get some extra money._

'In the inn down the road about ten minutes away,' he replied.

'Would you like to stay at the Daae Home?' _Yep, thought so._ 'If you would like, every unit, such as the one your mother lives in, comes with a guest bedroom. You're welcome to stay here at no extra cost.' Erik barely managed to keep himself from gaping.

'That would be very helpful, not having to drive over every day.' _No wonder Mother is friends with her. She's wonderful. _

'Not a problem. If you want to move in tonight, just bring your belongings over and the permanent parking space is on the first left as you drive in. If you have a time frame that you'd like to stay here then you can let our receptionist Casey know and if you have any other needs or help moving your belonging then you can also tell her. She'll have a few forms to fill out but it's nothing special, we just need to know a few things about who you are and some contact details,' Christine said.

'Thank you very much. I don't know how long I'm going to be staying here but if I figure that out I'll let you know,' Erik said.

'Not a problem,' Christine said. She reached over and gave Madelaine a hug. 'Hope to see you both again soon. Good night.'

'Goodnight,' Madelaine and Erik chimed.

'Isn't she just lovely?' Madelaine asked Erik.

'Indeed she is,' Erik answered absently, watching the figure of Christine walking away through the window. Madelaine used her hand to cover a small smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry that I haven't updated in a while, I'll try to put some more chapters up soon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of its character; those rights belong to Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. I do not own the lyrics of the song **_**The Rose**_**, which although being made famous by Bette Midler, was written by Amanda McBroom. I also do not own the lyrics of **_**Amazing Grace...**_**hell, I don't own anything. Anyway, **_**Amazing Grace **_**is owned by...um, one moment...I know he was a slave trader and I think his first name was John...times of desperation call for Google!...lol. Okay, got it. **_**Amazing Grace**_** is owned and written by a fellow that went by the name of John Newton. Okay, that all over, here's chapter 7:**

Christine walked to Unit 1 where she lived, an exact copy of Madelaine's unit but with her own personal furnishings. Christine unlocked the door and went into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and sitting down at the table. _Well that was an interesting night._ She used her hand to fan herself because the air conditioning was broken. The repairman wasn't able to come until later in the week and until then she would suffer. Christine looked up as she heard a soft chime from her laptop, signalling the arrival of an email. Opening it up, she saw it was from Fr. O'Reilly.

_To: __.com_

_From: __._

_Subject: Music_

_Evening, Christine. Just a last minute check that you have all the hymns prepared for mass tomorrow. As per usual I'll get there around 9:30 but won't disturb your practice. Oh, and a small request. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the death of Maggie Sheridan's mother. Maggie doesn't want anything said but you know how she likes the older music. Could you pick a traditional hymn for one of tomorrow's songs?_

_Thanks, _

_Fr. Mick_

Christine replied immediately.

_To: __._

_From: __.com_

_RE: Music_

_Of course, Father. I had noticed that she seemed a bit pensive this last week. I always get there around nine o'clock so I'll have plenty of time to practice._

_See you tomorrow,_

_Christine_

Christine shut down her laptop, showered and got changed and got into bed.

_Next Day_

The next day Christine got up at the same time that she always did, 6:50, getting ready for a swim and getting into the pool at 7 o'clock. She wasn't aware there was another early riser who had a perfect view of the pool from his guest bedroom window. Christine swam laps for 25 minutes and spent the next five just floating about in the water and being silly; doing handstands, summersaults, amusing herself. She climbed out at half past 7, wrapping her towel around her legs, putting on what she thought of as her swim shirt on for the walk back to her unit and slipping on some sandals, walked back to her unit. Christine spent the next half hour getting ready for Church and then sat and read her book for 55 minutes. Picking up her music, she walked out the door and down to the Hall. The Hall was the Daae Home's function room. It was used as a Church every Sunday at 10 o'clock, as a room to hold Bingo night in every fortnight and any other function that should occur. It was at the end of the Community section. Christine unlocked the door and walked in, flicking on the lights. She walked over to the grand piano that never left the room. It had been given to her by her father when she was sixteen and she owned it, not the Home. He had taught her how to sing and play piano from a young age and he gave it to her when he thought that she knew enough to deserve more than an electric keyboard.

Christine sat at the piano bench and began playing Chopsticks. Not as a warm-up, mind you, but to amuse herself and because it was tradition. Her father had always instructed her to start with this song in case she was angry or sad. Christine had since learnt that there were ways to express her emotions through music but her father's words always remained with her:

'I'm sorry if you feel angry or sad, Chrissie, but smashing the keys won't fix the problem.'

Finishing Chopsticks, she began some piano and voice scales and then began to sing one of her father's two favourite songs.

_Some say love it is a river  
that drowns the tender reed.  
Some say love it is a razor  
that leaves your soul to bleed._

Some say love it is a hunger  
an endless aching need.  
I say love it is a flower  
and you it's only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking  
that never learns to dance.  
It's the dream afraid of waking,

_that never takes the chance.  
It's the one who won't be taken  
who cannot seem to give.  
And the soul afraid of dying,_

_that never learns to live._

When the night has been too lonely,  
and the road has been too long,  
and you think that love is only  
for the lucky and the strong.  
Just remember in the winter,

_far beneath the bitter snows,  
lies the seed, that with the sun's love  
in the spring becomes the rose._

Christine finished the song and began practising the hymns she had chosen.

......................................................................................................................................................

Erik showered and dressed, walking into the kitchen at about 9:30.

'Good morning,' Madelaine said.

'Good morning. What's available for breakfast?' Erik asked. Madelaine pointed at various cupboards where she was sitting and eating.

'That cupboard up there has bowls, plates, glasses and so on, above it is the cutlery drawer, in the cupboard over your head you can find the muesli and there is water, milk and orange juice in the fridge.' Erik blinked as he took all this information in and then proceeded to make himself breakfast.

'What are you planning on doing today?' Erik asked.

'I'm going to Mass at ten down at the hall and then I don't have all that much planned except maybe a sleep and some tennis. Are you coming to Mass?' Madelaine asked.

'Of course. That's one thing that hasn't changed about me.' Madelaine smiled.

'Thank goodness for that. Even if I wasn't a practising Catholic I think I would go to Church here just to hear Christine sing.' Erik's ears picked up.

'She sings?' he asked. Madelaine cleared her dishes over to the sink, resisting the urge to rub her hands together gleefully.

'Mmm hmm. And plays piano. She provides the music at Mass and a whole lot of other functions at the Home. She sings like an absolute angel.'

'That's interesting,' Erik said. He finished his breakfast and when he and Madelaine were ready they left at 9:40, arriving five minutes later. As Erik walked in, he spotted Christine immediately. She was sitting at the piano bench, dressed in a modest blue blouse and a knee-length black skirt. Christine was talking to a boy who looked to be about ten. Erik's heart sank when he saw a handsome man who looked to be in his late twenties walked over to the two of them, sent the boy off somewhere, and proceeded to have a brief conversation with her before he returned to his seat.

......................................................................................................................................................

Christine finished her practising just as ten-year-old Harry Cooper raced in, followed by his two brothers, Mark (7) and Tom (4), his father James, his heavily pregnant mother Janice, his uncle Brian and his grandmother Elsie who lived in the retirement community. Brian was engaged to Casey and their wedding was taking place in three weeks time.

'Hi, Christine!' Harry called out.

'Hi, Harry. I swear you've gotten bigger since the last time I saw you.' He laughed.

'What songs are you going to sing today?' Harry asked.

'Now, now. I can't tell you that or it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?' Christine teased. Harry pouted. His uncle Brian chose that point in time to walk over to them.

'C'mon, Harry. You'd better get changed into your robes,' Brian said. Harry scampered off to get ready.

'Thank you, Brian.' Christine said.

'No problem. I was wondering if you could do me a favour. Casey is panicking about make-up and jewellery and uh, other topics I don't really know anything about. Could you help her?' Brian asked sheepishly.

'That's fine, Brian. I'll have a chat with her at some time during the week. Hey, there she is now,' Christine said, causing Brian to turn around. 'I have a few more people to talk to before Mass starts so I'll let you go talk to her.' Brian smiled and walked away. Christine started her rounds and eventually came to Madelaine and Erik. She gulped. As happy as she was to see that Erik was a practicing Catholic, she now had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of singing before him.

'Good morning, Madelaine, Erik,' Christine said.

'Good morning,' they replied.

'What songs are you singing this morning?' Madelaine laughed. Christine smiled.

'You're just as bad as Harry, at least he's only ten, what's your excuse?' Madelaine laughed.

'I look forward to hearing you play and sing,' Erik said to Christine.

'Thank you. I can only hope that I can pass muster, Mr. Composer. Don't judge me too harshly,' Christine said, smiling.

'I wouldn't dream of it. Tell me about everybody here,' Erik said, gesturing at the congregation. While he was interested about hearing about everyone, he particularly wanted to know about that man. As she told him about everyone, he began to breathe more easily when Christine told him of Brian and Casey's engagement and he saw the look of adoration on Brian's face as he spoke to Casey.

'I must go now, Mass is going to begin and I have to go check on Charlie.' Christine had mentioned Charlie when she told Erik of everyone. He was a member of the retirement community who was in his late fifties and he controlled the data projector that projected the hymn lyrics at Mass. Christine continued to talk. 'Despite the fact that he is happy to operate that 'new-fangled' technology, I still have to keep an eye on him. I'll see you both after Mass.' With that and a smile, Christine walked over to Charlie, checked that he was ready and sat down at the piano. A moment later Mass started and the hymn flashed up on the screen. Christine began.

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,  
That saved a wretch like me....  
I once was lost but now am found,  
Was blind, but now, I see.  
__  
__T'was Grace that taught  
my heart to fear.  
And Grace, my fears relieved.  
How precious did that Grace appear,  
the hour I first believed.  
__  
__Through many dangers, toils and snares,  
we have already come.  
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far,  
and Grace will lead us home.___

_When we've been here ten thousand years,_

_Bright shining as the sun.  
We've no less days to sing God's praise  
then when we've first begun._

Christine and Erik were both having difficulty focusing on the music. Erik listened to Christine's strong and pure soprano voice, discovering that his mother was correct. _She does indeed sing like an angel. _Christine could hear Erik's deep, wonderful bass voice rising above the congregation. His voice sent pleasant shivers down her spine, as it had when she first talked to him at the airport. _Focus on the music, Christine. Just focus._

Mass was soon over and Christine walked outside to help set up morning tea. 


End file.
